Requiem for the Lost Seasons; October Étude; & A Name

 

Requiem for the Lost Seasons

In the Mojave heat moved like a fever 

through light as if the dusk promised 

another lake just ahead another body 

of palms whipped by a last new moon 

night’s fanfare of black ribbons hung

along Moroccan mirrors & false pearls 

their final embers gathered into songs 

& folded within the melody those lyrics 

of sleep laced by a scent of tombs as fog 

follows along the narrow trails leading 

up the canyon as silence again collapses 

along the creek below erasing your desire 

for day’s tangle of rain salt & heat rising 

off the mirages yet a lazy raven remains 

its listless irony one of the few pleasures 

slowly crushing you setting you adrift once

more what happens to the promises made 

in the rainy season what happens to sworn

revelations after the muddy fields dry what 

happens if white blossoms of almond orchards 

shiver & storm across ravines at the edges 

of this desert blinding those drivers making 

their ways home to other cities & other lives 

to lies told within those lives told & repeated 

to friends you know O you know those lies 

I mean you know those lies you know what 

happens to those seeds of California poppies 

& the wild foxglove you’ve held in your hands 

through this winter of raw abstinence saving 

these precious seeds so they may be at last  

scattered across your garden & caught by these 

blood-scorched winds beneath the late May sky

 

David St. John’s most recent collection of poetry is Prayer for My Daughter (Walton Well Press, 2024). He teaches at the University of Southern California.